Shadow Apostle

(There is a small bug at the end of Chapter 41. I have adjusted it and added a few sentences. It doesn’t matter if you don’t read it. There are also supplements in this chapter, which does not affect reading. In order to prevent some people from finding out and suspecting that they are dreaming, I explain one time.)

Horst suddenly sat up from the bed.

It was like a steam pump was connected to the brain, and the blood vessels were beating non-stop.

My whole head hurts so much.

Consciousness is also blank.

Thinking seems to have slowed down countless times.

Even the simplest question of telling the time requires looking at the light-transmitting curtains and thinking for a long time.

And he hasn't reacted yet.

Gradually, the brain recovered its thinking ability and finally understood the current situation.

The curtains were still closed, but the thin curtains couldn't block the bright sunlight outside the window.

The streets were noisy and the wheels were rolling.

The sounds of washing and arguing could be heard in the apartment building No. 85, just like before.

I was on the bed in Room 103, and there was a strange smell of barbecue floating in the air, just like the aroma of roasted brains.

Horst shook his head while pressing his forehead, which was still aching, and looked around.

The cardboard box from last night was still thrown under the bed. Everything was the same as before going to bed, except that the tentacles that covered the bed were gone.

Looks like he's back.

Is that the fantasy world that everyone fears?

Why are there monsters everywhere?

And what did I see last?

Horst tried to remember the last thing he saw, but his brain failed to respond.

I can't recall the image of that thing at all.

Horst didn’t dare to think about it any more.

He had realized what was happening.

What he encountered was definitely a mystery that was so powerful that it was unimaginable.

He was so strong that he could only sense the other party, but his fragile spirit could no longer hold on.

Fortunately, we were in a dream. If we really saw this directly, the consequences would be disastrous.

Horst shook his head, looked at the cardboard box on the ground, and remembered everything that happened in the dream.

Beef Soup seems to have been interested in tentacles since the beginning, and his purpose is to follow the tentacles and face the incomprehensible thing.

And he also took me with him through my dreams.

Is this why you want that tentacle? I thought you were greedy.

You guy can actually do such a thing, what on earth is that thing, and what did you do when you chased it?

I saw that thing's brain was almost cooked by himself. You didn't just want to shake hands and say hello.

Horst shook his head. He really couldn't figure out what it wanted to do. It seemed that he had to visit the mysterious expert mentioned by Swain White as soon as possible to at least find out what the other party was. Otherwise, he would be too passive.

But it doesn’t feel like the beef soup has any malicious intent, so let’s let it go for now, as long as nothing happens to it.

Looking at his flat belly, Horst patted it.

Poof, six long and thin tentacles came out of the belly.

As soon as it appeared, it immediately patted around as if exploring. Two of them even extended all the way, flexibly opened the cabinet and rummaged through the cooking pot.

After flipping around for a while, perhaps finding that it was empty, the six tentacles suddenly pointed their tips at Horst.

Then they rushed forward together.

Promises in dreams don't count, you tentacle monster, don't even think about extracting beef stew from me.

Let me warn you, I am the most powerful new rank 1 in Mingyue City, not your breeder.

Get down here, don't slap me in the face. Puff, puff, puff...

After beating the keeper, the tentacles slowly retracted into Horst's stomach, and Horst felt relieved.

What bad thoughts can a foodie have?

It seems that nothing happened to it in the dream, but it was quite energetic.

But unfortunately, Horst tried to communicate with it as in a dream, but it had no emotional feedback, let alone obeyed the orders.

Is it only possible in the fantasy world in dreams?

Or are there any limitations for me or it in this world?

Knowing that he could not find the answers to these questions and had to slowly explore them, Horst shook his head and jumped up from the bed.

With his spirit recovered well and his headache almost relieved, Horst stretched his stiff body and took the first step to get up.

He felt something was wrong as soon as he lifted his leg, but it was too late to react.

The moment he stepped on the floor with one foot, Horst felt as if something was quickly pulled out of his soul.

That is the spiritual power deep in the soul.

It feels a bit like using a lighter, but far more serious.

So much so that Horst felt dizzy and almost fainted on the spot.

Then, land on one foot.

boom.

With a dull explosion, a wave of air emitted from the landing point under his feet, instantly sweeping the space within a one-meter radius around the landing point.

The floor within the area was shaking crazily, and even the bed was bounced into the air, and then slammed back to the ground.

The vibration was violent, but it didn't seem to be destructive. The bed was bounced away, but the old floors in the room were not damaged at all. Instead, a big hole was made by the falling bed.

Horst was unprepared and was knocked to the ground by him. He stared blankly at his masterpiece, and it took him a long time to react.

Quickly crawl over and take a look at the smashed floor. It seems to be undergoing major repairs. But fortunately, if the bed is moved slightly, it can be blocked. It won't affect it. It won't affect it.

No, what's going on?

Horst looked at his legs in confusion.

I just took a casual step like this...that's not right.

The same feeling of being emptied out started again. Horst quickly stopped it with his consciousness, and finally just took a normal step.

This effect was all too familiar to Horst.

I just saw it once in my dream, and it was the action of those 'big trees' trampling over a group of zombie dogs.

Horst couldn't help but wonder, how did I learn it? Could it be the result of you swallowing that tentacle? It seems that that is really their skill.

But there was no reply.

He could only sigh angrily and try hard to control this sudden change.

In fact, it was not difficult. It didn't take long for Horst to understand how to control this special skill. It was just a purely active triggering technique. Soon, Horst took a few normal steps in a row and felt relieved. tone.

Different from the characteristics of a system, this is a single skill, which is quite convenient, so just call it trample.

You guys don't want to pick up everything at home, just treat it as a windfall this time.

After poking his stomach, Horst muttered a few words, stopped worrying, and dressed neatly again.

Carefully, he took out the remaining Golden George from his hat. The golden disc was engraved with a relief of the head of George III, the fourth king of Nordland.

Stroking the cold disc, Horst realized for the first time how cute a man could be.

Well, much cuter than Queen Luca I.

Reluctantly, he put the gold George together with the more than eighty lucas left in the purse. The lucas in the Kingdom of Nordland had the highest denominations, fifty, twenty, ten, and one, which were more valuable than copper. Mira also has an extra twenty denomination.

However, no matter what the denomination is, you can’t help but spend it.

Horst lamented in his heart. Fortunately, the Scarecrow would still be able to make a large sum of money in the next few days, otherwise life would be almost unbearable.

Let alone realize your plans.

Yes, Horst now has a big plan.

A better plan on how to get yourself along in this stingy world.

But before that, this matter needs to be dealt with first.

Horst took out the note from his pants pocket.

A note to let myself know that my trench coat needs to be mended.

The note seemed to be torn from the margin of the newspaper, and the handwriting was very sloppy, as if it was written with the left hand.

When I smelled the paper, in addition to the damp musty smell, it also smelled like engine oil.

After looking at the note and thinking for a moment, Horst grabbed the torn windbreaker and put it on, picked up his cane, put on his hat and walked out of the house.

After locking the door, he skillfully bypassed the cracked wooden boards in the corridor and helped Mr. William from 102 take away the fresh burden from the newspaper box.

The two newspapers from yesterday and the day before yesterday are still there, and they are almost too big to fit in. Let me clean them up for you. You don’t need to thank me for such a small thing.

I'll pay you back when I come back tonight.

Lifting his hat and bowing to the newspaper box, Horst walked through the long corridor with the newspaper until he reached the door in the middle of the apartment.

The layout of the century-old apartment is as old as the facilities inside.

There is a long corridor on each side, with four households on each side.

Directly opposite the door is a hall, which contains public areas such as the kitchen, dining room and living room. The stairs behind the living room lead to the eight tenants upstairs.

Standing at the edge of the hall, Horst took a deep breath and cautiously poked his head towards the public area.

No.

During breakfast time, there were seven or eight tenants in the kitchen and dining room, all wearing cheap linen shirts, sweaters or thick cloth skirts.

"Strange, where are the people?" Horst muttered in a low voice, "At this time in the past, the stingy vampire demon would definitely be standing in the kitchen, holding up a pocket watch to measure the gas consumption time of each tenant. What happened today..."

Before he finished muttering, he heard the creak of the floor behind him, getting closer and closer.

When Horst turned around, he saw a silver-haired old woman holding a long rifle and walking toward him fiercely.

The dark-colored velvet jacket with flowers was a popular style fifty years ago. He has gray hair, a thin figure, and a mean look.

The old woman strode up to him, raised the barrel of the gun, and pointed the black muzzle at Horst's head.

Keep reading, keep reading, ask for it every day, brothers, please